


The Wedding

by wingsofanillyrian



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Wedding, post eos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofanillyrian/pseuds/wingsofanillyrian
Summary: Rowan and Aelin have the wedding ceremony their friends all missed.





	1. Chapter 1

**_Rowan_ **

“Big day today, prince,” Fenrys drawled, clapping my bare shoulder. “And an even bigger night afterwards, eh? At least, it would be if I were the one marrying Aelin-”

I cut him off with a growl, shooting him an icy glare. “That’s my wife you’re talking about. Just remember that.”

Fenrys smirked, teeth white against his bronze skin. “She’s not your wife yet, brother, I could still-“ I restricted the air in his lungs, causing him to gasp.

“Actually,” I said, baring my canines at him, “She  _is_ my wife. This is just the formal ceremony. Which I will gladly have you locked out of if you don’t  _shut your damned mouth.”_

Was I being harsh? Probably. Did I care? Not really.

I glanced at the door, which had opened to reveal golden Ashryver hair and turquoise eyes. “What’d he do this time?” Aedion asked, hanging his freshly pressed suit coat on the rack.

I reeled in my magic, coiling the icy thread back into the depths of my being. Fenrys drew in a long breath of fresh air, glaring up at me. Honestly, it was his own fault. Usually, I could brush off Fenrys’ taunts and spit back some of my own. But today, my nerves were too frayed to react any other way.

“Insulted my wife.” With one last smirk in Fenrys’ direction, I slipped on my white shirt and buttoned up the front. I decided that I never wanted to wear a suit again in my life. The tightness of the fabric constricted the movements of my arms, making me feel more vulnerable than I ever had before. Aedion clucked his tongue at Fenrys, wagging a finger in his direction.

“Fenrys, you dumbass. You should know better than to fuck with him on his wedding day.” Aedion rolled his eyes, shoving Fenrys out the door despite his protests to remain. Thank the  _Gods._

“How do I look?” I asked, turning to Aedion and straightening my Terrasen green tie. The tie had been at my insistence, as Aelin had wanted me to wear the traditional black. But I wanted to display the pride I had in my country, and in its queen.

“Like a handsome groom,” he grinned, slipping his cufflinks through the holes in his sleeves. “Aelin’s gonna be drooling in the aisle.” I rolled my eyes, turning back to the mirror and running a shaky hand through my tousled hair. My eyes were shining with excitement and anticipation, appearing to be a darker forest green thanks to the tie.

“I think I’ll be the one drooling, if I know my mate at all.” Certainly, she’d pick out a dress that she knew would drive me crazy. I shrugged on my coat, giving myself a once over. My tattoos stood out starkly against my skin, which was darker than it had been in the previous months. I’d cropped my hair close to  my head, but left it long enough for Aelin to run a nimble-fingered hand through.

“Speaking of which, why don’t you go make sure the ladies are ready? Aelin walks in ten minutes.”

Aedion barked a laugh. “Gods know they take  _forever_ to get ready.”

The moment he slipped out the door, I sighed. I glanced at my hands, clenching them into fists in an attempt to quell the shaking. Why was I so nervous? We were already married in the eyes of the gods, on that stolen night so many years ago. It wasn’t like she was going to suddenly reject me, not after everything we had been through.

No, she was stuck with this territorial Fae bastard forever.

***************

**_Aelin_ **

Lysandra’s excited squeal grated against my ear drums as I stepped out from behind the screen, clothed in my wedding gown.

“Beautiful!” she exclaimed, causing me to wince.

“I know I’m drop dead gorgeous, Lys, but can you tone it down a little?” She rolled her eyes at me, reaching out to pick some lint off my dress.

“See for yourself.” Her green eyes sparkled when she gestured to the floor length mirror at the side of the room. I stepped over to it, gasping as I beheld my reflection.

It  _was_ a beautiful dress. The seamstress had done a wonderful job, the deep green silk hugging every one of my natural curves. The skirts hissed against the ground as I turned, peering over my shoulder. The lace-trimmed vee of the backless gown left my scars and tattoos on full display; the center of attention. I wanted them to be seen. I wanted everyone to know that I was not ashamed of the hell I went through for my people, and that I wouldn’t slink into a corner and let my past consume me.

“Wow,” I breathed, meeting Lysandra’s eyes in the mirror. A grin cracked my painted red lips. “Rowan’s going to loose his shit.” Her eyes widened slightly before she burst into a fit of laughter, clutching her stomach. I followed suit, a carefree giggle bubbling out of me.

“And how do you think Aedion will react to mine?” She asked, sitting me down in front of the vanity to curl my hair.

“You could be wearing that bright orange ruffled atrocity we saw at the tailors and he would still loose his mind.” She laughed again, absorbed in her work. It was true though, the love those two shared was similar to that of Rowan and I. Unyielding, endless, and unjudging.

A knock sounded at the door, and Lysandra sashayed to open it. “Speak of the devil.”

Aedion’s golden blond head poked in the room, and he winked at her before letting his gaze roam over her, eyes clouding with lust as he surveyed the simple lace gown that left nothing to the imagination. I cleared my throat, snapping my cousin from his stupor.

“I don’t think Rowan is quite prepared for that dress,” he said, and I spun to give him a view of the back. He let out a low whistle, nodding in appreciation.

“ _Definitely_ not prepared,” he laughed, then added softly, “It’s lovely, Aelin. He’s going to love it.” He glanced at the clock, sucking in a breath.

“I know, I know!” I said, holding up my hands. “I’m on in five minutes.” In five minutes time, I’d walk down the aisle to wed the love of my life. My brilliant Fae warrior, who beheld my scars and did not balk at the sight. The only male who knew every inch of my soul and still accepted me exactly as I was.

My Rowan.

“We’d better get going,” Lysandra chimed, smoothing the folds of her dress. “I’ll go ahead and make sure Rowan’s already left.” I nodded, taking the elbow that Aedion offered.

“Here we go.”


	2. The Wedding- Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ceremony! Feedback is always welcome!

**_Rowan_ **

The ceremony wasn’t anything grand. Aelin was concerned about using her citizens taxes to fund any part of the festivities that weren’t open to the general public, so we scraped together what we could, and with the help of our friends, were able to create something wonderful.

I stood at the altar at the Temple of Mala Firebringer, my back to the small crowd of our closest friends. The temple had been beautifully decorated with swaths of brightly colored silk that stood out starkly against the white marble of the structure. The priestess that was officiating our marriage stood in front of Mala’s eternal fire, which was maintained by those who worshipped her. Copper powder had been sprinkled on the flames earlier that morning, giving them their distinct green color.

As the seconds ticked by, I got more and more nervous. I fiddled with my cufflink, hoping no one would notice my nerves. She should have been here three minutes ago. Where was she? Did she suddenly decide that she didn’t-

I breathed a small sigh of relief as the soft notes of the wedding march flitted through the chamber. I heard everyone shuffling in their seats, twisting for a better view of the wedding party. Because some damned old tradition forbade me from turning around, I closed my eyes to picture the scene unfolding behind me.

Lysandra would be the first to enter, wearing her lovely lacy gown. She’d picked it out specifically to taunt Aedion, she told me. My lips twitched upward in a tiny grin as I pictured his face when he saw it.

Evangeline would follow the shifter, hand in hand with Dorian and Manon’s small son, Henry. Each would bear one of our rings, carried with the utmost care. I heard a small gasp and the unmistakable high-pitched _ping!_ of metal bouncing on marble. The little prince must have accidentally dropped the ring, but soon recovered it, judging by the light laugh Dorian gave. Henry took his place by my right side, and I opened my eyes to peek at him. He grinned up at me, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. I winked, letting him know it was okay and he giggled.

I turned back to the priestess, fiddling with my fingers anxiously. Aelin would enter last, led down the aisle by Aedion. The murmurs from those gathered behind me alerted me to her arrival, and it took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to turn around right then.

A few moments later, I sensed her warmth behind me and I looked up at the priestess for confirmation. She nodded, a warm smile on her face. Slowly, I turned to face my mate.

I was left utterly speechless.

She was beautiful, clad in silk gown of deepest green. The long, fitted sleeves couldn’t hide the corded muscle that I knew lay beneath. The close cut of the bodice told me that the dress was most likely backless, and I wasn’t surprised. I hungrily drank in the sight of her, my gaze lapping up each of her delicious curves. I must have looked a bit  _too_  hungry, because Aedion cleared his throat pointedly.

I glanced at him, and he offered me Aelin’s hand, which I took gently in mine. “Take care of her,” he murmured, and I nodded.

“I always will.” Together, we stepped onto the raised dias to begin the ceremony.

“We gather here today, with Mala as our witness…” I was distantly aware of the priestess’ booming voice filing the antechamber. My attention was fixed wholly on my mate, who fidgeted as if to say  _What do you think?_

 _Ravishing,_ I told her with the raise of a silver brow. My eyes drifted to her plunging neckline, and she lightly squeezed my fingers.

 _My eyes are up here, you buzzard._  I had to bite my lip to contain my laughter.

_Honestly. You’re gorgeous._

_You aren’t so bad yourself._ She wiggled her eyebrows as she looked me up and down.  _But I bet that suit will look better on the bedroom fl-_

“And now the couple will exchange vows. Rowan?”

Giving Aelin an innocent smile, as if she hadn’t just been seducing me moments before. I gulped, regaining my wits and releasing her hand to pull the note from my pocket. My vows had taken me forever to write.

I employed the help of all my brothers, each one of them telling me what they thought I should include. Their ideas served as my baseboard, but what I wrote in the end was uniquely mine. I must have gone through six or seven drafts before I felt confident that they accurately conveyed what I felt for my queen. I cleared my throat and turned to face her fully.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.” I reached for her hand, searching her face for any last-minute doubt or regret. When I found only overwhelming amounts of love and excitement shining in her beautiful gold-ringed eyes, I began.

“When we first met, I was lost, but too stubborn and broken to admit it to myself. I hid behind my mask of cruelty and ice, and you only burrowed further into your despair.” I paused, squeezing her hand.

“But then something changed. You taught me how to heal. You taught me what it was to love again, and be loved in return. I know you don’t believe it, but you  _saved_ me. And it is because of that love that I want to promise you a few things.” Aelin tilted her head to the side, and I could read the unspoken question in her eyes. I only smiled and continued.

“I promise you the first bite of my meat and the first sip from my cup. I pledge to you my life and my death, each equally under your protection. I will be the shield at your back and the sword in your hand on the battlefield that is life. I promise to forever be yours, to have and to hold, to whatever end.”

“Above all else, I promise you your freedom. I swear that I will never infringe upon your right to make your own choices, and I swear to support you in all that you do. I promise I always love you, Aelin; my carranam, my mate, and my one true love.”

“These are my vows to you, my Fireheart. Will you have me as your husband?”

“I will.”

Evangeline brought me Aelin’s ring, a teardrop shaped aquamarine symbolizing my ice cradled in a silver setting. I remember being shocked when she suggested it, but then again Aelin was always a bit of a rebel. I slipped the ring on the ring finger of her left hand, conjuring a cool breeze to kiss her burning skin.

A tear traced down her cheek, and I brushed it away with my thumb. She let out a watery laugh and cursed under her breath. I snuck a glance over her shoulder to Lysandra- she was crying too. Well, this certainly hadn’t been my intention. At least they were happy tears, I thought, because I couldn’t scent any discomfort in the room.

“Aelin, your vows?” the priestess chimed in, spreading her hands wide.

Aelin swiped at her face, smiling wide once more before taking my hands and looking up at me with those wonderful Ashryver eyes.

“Rowan Buzzard Whitethorn.” Our friends and family chuckled at the old joke, but Aelin’s unblinking eyes remained fixed on my pine green ones.

“I cannot promise you my spirit, for I am my own commander. And I cannot offer you my soul, for I am a free woman.” She gulped, and I understood why she needed to say those words. They were rooted in the time she spent a slave to Arobynn and the late King of Adarlan, both of whom had broken her spirit and stolen her soul.

“But I can offer you my heart. It was never really mine to begin with; in a way, it has always belonged to you. You saved me too, in those dark forests of Mistward. You never gave up on me, even when I had given up on myself. You helped me regain what I had lost. You rediscovered my soul and picked up the broken pieces of my spirit and patched them back together.” Aelin inhaled shakily, gathering her thoughts before speaking again.

“I pledge that your eyes will forever be the ones I smile into each morning, and your name the only one on my tongue when I cry out in the night. You are the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, and the blood that flows in my veins.”

“You are my carranam and my mate, Rowan Whitethorn, and I promise you my love until my dying breath. Will you have me as your wife?”

“I will.”

And then I was crying. Not in the way that Aelin had, gracefully with just a single tear. Saltwater ran liberally down my cheeks as I gazed upon my mate and  _felt_  the truth in her words. How? How had I ever gotten so lucky? She was the only one that knew every inch of my soul and had not balked from it. I never thought that I would find another after Lyria; I had been so broken and hurt.

But then I met Aelin.

And she had chosen me to be her equal and her beloved, and I knew that I could never love another the way that I love her.

“Are you okay?” She whispered, and I could only nod. She tilted her head to the side and smiled, sending sparks tingling through my senses. Evangeline handed her the ring, which she took and slid onto my ring finger. The silver band was warm against my skin, and the three fiery rubies inlaid upon it shone in the waning light of day.

I was too enraptured with the moment to notice the priestess’s words. Her voice was no more but a buzz in my ears, but Aelin’s laugh may as well have been sheet music.

“This is the part where you kiss me,” she stage whispered, standing up on her tiptoes so her perfect pink lips were inches from mine. I bracketed my arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground as I covered those sweet lips with my own.

My brother’s roars were distinct over the others cheers, telling us to get a room. Aelin and I didn’t care, though. Her hands found the nape of my neck, swiping her tongue across my bottom lip. Only then did I pull back with a laugh and rest my forehead on hers.

“What do you say we get out of here?”

“Rowan, we have to go to the reception!”

“They can wait a few minutes.”

Before she could protest, I swept her into my arms and carried her swiftly back down the aisle and into the waiting carriage.


End file.
